I used to think that the Russian culture class I took in college would be the largest source of "useless information" I would acquire in my adult life. I was wrong. Not only have I now memorized the words to countless children's books, but I can very accurately tell you the names of most heavy operating equipment.
It's one of those things I never thought I'd have to know: the difference between a backhoe loader and an excavator. However, it has become blatantly obvious that it is completely necessary for me to have this information on hand. My son insists.
My son has a serious obsession with vehicles. Basically anything with wheels. He is no longer content to just push toy cars around his room making a "vroooom" noise that results in a LOT of spit gathering on his chin, he now has to jump up in his crib at 6:30 a.m. and scream "MOOOOOM!!!!" in between making airplane noises every time he thinks he hears one (I've tried to explain to him that sometimes it's just the wind - or rather, before 7 a.m., it is ALWAYS the wind).
He points at the airplane pictures in our house and makes flying motions above his head, he eats his meals with utensils outfitted with tiny diggers and points joyously at them in between bites exclaiming, "dig! dig!" He even brings his vehicle magnets to me one at time and demands I tell him exactly what vehicle each one is supposed to be. (Is a roller a vehicle? I think that's wrong...)
The good news is with all of the "baby's first vehicles" books we read, I'm actually learning something. Although I would like to pick a bone with whoever thinks "excavator"is an appropriate vehicle for this book. Seriously, what about "car?" and "truck?"
Most little kids cuddle their stuffed animals while they watch Saturday morning cartoons, or bring their favorite book in the car with them, but my son has decided that instead of a security blanket, he would prefer to drag his giant, plastic garbage truck everywhere we go. He strokes it during story time before bed, holds it in his car seat on the way to the store and would basically sleep with it if I would allow him to. To make matters worse, the hatch on the back of it opens so he can store/hide items back there to surprise me with later. Out of nowhere I have to ask "What are you eating?!" or "Where did you get that binky?!"
I understand this is a normal part of boyhood, and I'll admit it's pretty cute when he yells "more dig!" as we drive past open fields, but the other day when he accidentally dropped said plastic garbage truck on my knee cap, I secretly wished it was a stuffed bear he had dragged into his rocker with him.
His father doesn't help. Not only does he work at a landfill (full of semis, dump trucks and landfill compactors - oh my!) but he Facetimes me throughout the day just so he can show my son a running tractor. I'm sorely outnumbered.
I've decided not to fight it. We're already planning a family vacation to the Caterpillar plant in Illinois for when we decide to brave the open skies with the little, and airport trips are fast becoming more frequent than I'd like (did I mention I HATE flying? Even the sight of planes makes me a little anxious). If we decide to tackle this whole "raising a child" thing a second time, I'm praying ballet recitals and stuffed animal tea parties are in my future.
- N.
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